


The Witches Cat

by bitchismitebe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Witchcraft, destielhalloweenminibang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchismitebe/pseuds/bitchismitebe
Summary: I first encountered them stood over the body of my mistress, but I won't hold that against them. At least not the calm one, the jury is still out on the flannel one.





	

The noise stopped suddenly, you see. The banging and shouting, the sound of my mistresses spells being incanted. That's why I came out. I thought it was over, and it was, just not with my Mistress dominant as had happened so many times before. 

He stood over her body, chest heaving from the fight, but I didn't care. I had to get to her. Her body was still, stiller even than when she meditated or when she flung her soul out to spy on her enemies. She would be angry when she woke and found me kneading at her chest and nuzzling her face, at least for a while, but eventually she would give me some meat and allow me her warm lap, I was certain of it. 

The sound of a gun being cocked caught my attention. As a cat, I suppose it is unusual for me to know the sound, but this wasn't my first encounter with them. I knew what they could do. 

"Night night, kitty." He said, the gun clicking once again. I closed my eyes. I would be happy as long as I could be with my mistress.

But the shot never came. I opened my eyes after long seconds to see a second man. Rather than the jumble of thoughts and emotion from the former, this one... this one was something new. The first hid a very human heart under layers of flannel and cotton, painfully, inextricably human. But this one... was something more. The trenchcoat was a disguise. 

They were just... staring. I tilted my head in confusion. They appeared to be communicating through some type of psychic connection, though it was obviously in it's infancy, had they been experienced the intense eye contact would be unnecessary. The new one had his hand on the barrel of the gun, stopping the flannel ones shot. 

"It is only a cat, Dean." He said eventually, just as I was beginning to consider running away rather than patiently waiting for my end at the hands of this ruffian. 

The flannel one sighed, the gun clicking again as he lowered it, holstering it in the traditional manner of humans, by his anus. (Such a curious tradition, to keep something so deadly by something so essential, especially as they seem so offended by the sight of the feline one, but I digress) before coming to kneel in front of me. I was initially appeased by the rightful sign of respect before his hand whipped out and grabbed the scruff of my neck. Such insolence! The indignity! I had not been held thus since the taste of my mothers milk was still in my mouth. Cold metal touched my precious jellybean toes, a small cut made on my leg that the calm one magicked away quickly, before I found myself in his arms, looking up into blue eyes. 

Of course I squirmed and yowled in protest, but this one seemed to be better versed in the dignity of cats, allowing me upright and stroking me with his large hands. He spoke, though I could not tell you what he said, only that the rumble of his chest felt like a purr. I am afraid to say that I purred in response, but I found myself enough to look accusingly at the flannel one. 

From what I could glean from them, they were discussing my future, as if I was some kitten unable to take care of myself. The calm one was insisting that I be taken with them back to what I would come to know as "the bunker." 

Dear reader, this was indeed my fate to be taken back to with them. I put up as much of a fight as I was able, but it seemed like the calm one placed some kind of compliance enchantment upon my person and I found myself unable to remove myself from his arms, such comfort I found there. We travelled by car, a mode of transport I had previously found distressing, but with soft fingers tickling under my chin and pieces of greasy meat offered regularly, I found I could endure it. 

The bunker, I came to discover, was a hole in the ground. It was dark and warm, and had a considerable mouse infestation. The final point appeared to be the reason the flannel one had allowed the calm one to allow me to join their commune. 

On my arrival, an even larger plaid one was there to host my arrival. He was just as pleasant as the calm one, though perhaps less naturally talented at ear scratches. My arrival seemed to be a source of amusement to him, or at least the flannel ones tolerance of it. He described him as "whipped".

It is my instinct that they are certainly litter-mates, they shared the same affectionate irritation I had with my siblings, which begs the question why they tolerate the calm one. He is a different species, which I suppose I am also, perhaps that why I feel such a kinship with him. 

My question was later answered when we convened together later in the day to lounge. I lay next to the calm one, his magical fingers massaging my head. They all appeared to be fascinated by a glowing box in the corner. Well, the tall one was entranced at least. The calm one and the flannel one kept stealing glances when the other wasn't looking. That's when it hit me. They wished to be mates! 

I could never bring myself to stand in the path of true love, hence I made it my solemn duty to bring them together. I stood, stretching lazily so as not to alert them to my plan. The calm one looked at me, head tilting like the youngest kitten. He appeared confused as I moved from his side to go and stare at the flannel one, deciding to push my face against his hand insistantly. Distracted, he began to stroke me, looking down a few minutes later in irritation as he realised himself. For a moment I believe his intention was to push me away before catching the eye of the calm one. I don't know exactly what it was he saw there, but it provoked him to continue his affections to which I showed my approval with a small purr. 

It was dark when I woke, the men having left as I slept. I went to look for the calm one. He had not provided me with an evening meal and the thought of catching a mouse sounded much too strenuous at that particular time. 

I came across both the calm one and the flannel one in the hallway, I held back, not wishing to disturb them. The calm one... oh to hell with the formalities, my companion appeared almost shy, the flannel one scratching the back of his head as he stuttered his way through whatever it was he was attempting to say. 

Reader, you can only imagine my surprise when they both entered the same room together to sleep for the night. I can imagine them now, curled together, licking each other with ardent affection, and all because of my clever plan to get them to look at each other. 

\-------- 

"Cas, your damn cat slept on my bed and got hair all over the damn place." 

"My apologies, Dean. I will supervise Mr Cuddles more closely in future." 

"Now I have to strip the bed and vacuum it it and..." 

"You could share my bed." 

"...what?" 

"My bed. Tonight." 

"Just tonight, right?" 

"Right." 

"Or... or it could be..." 

"Be for longer?" 

"Cas...." 

"It's okay, I understand." 

"No. no I mean I'd like that." 

"Whatever this is, Dean. We'll figure it out, okay." 

"Slowly." 

"Slowly." 

"And together."


End file.
